


Invaluable

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mayor Mills is about to have her father's beloved trees cut down, Belle French turns to the most feared man in town for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invaluable

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to Exia for the wonderful beta job.

"You can't do this!"

"Oh yes, Mr. French, I assure you that I most certainly can." Mayor Mills is gloating as she surveys the plot of land in front of them. There's what appears to be a small army of workers standing behind her, ready to do her bidding without question. "You know as well as I do that you sold this property to me a year ago. I can do with it whatever I please."

If Belle French hadn't been so angry, she would have had the presence of mind to comment that they had, in fact, sold the plot to the local government, not the mayor herself. Powerful as Regina Mills may be, she doesn't personally form the _entire_ local government – not yet, anyway.

"Mayor Mills, there was a clause in the contract," the florist protests. "We agreed that the plot would remain in its original state. We sold the land to you on the condition that the trees wouldn't be cut down."

"We've had this discussion several times before," is the mayor's impatient reply. "I explained to you that even if such a clause had ever been there, it can't prevent me from cutting down those trees over here."

"But you signed the contract yourself. I made sure that the clause was there when you did." Her father addresses both the mayor and the half dozen workers she brought with her, chainsaws already in hand. "Can't we at least take a look at the contract again?"

Belle is very much aware that there is no point, even if the mayor were to honor her father's request. The mayor is determined and everyone knows that Regina Mills always gets what she wants, legal or no.

She looks at the old but still healthy trees in front of them, the fresh young leaves of her favorite tree contrasting beautifully with its white trunk. Belle fondly recalls the days that the plot was part of their extensive back yard, when she could freely wander and relax in the tiny forest.

It saddens her that the beautiful trees are going to meet an unnecessary end because of the mayor's whim. Not just because those trees have been there for as long as she can remember, each telling a tale of their own, but mostly because her father has tended to them for the greater part of his life and cares for them almost as if they were his own children.

"Do you really need those trees gone?" her father tries again, this time solely addressing the still smiling mayor. "They aren't in anyone's way out here. And what could you possibly use this quarter-acre plot of a land for, anyway?!"

"I have my reasons and I'm not required to share them with you," Mayor Mills replies icily, sending the workers towards the trees with a wave of her hand.

"At least not that birch tree in the middle," her father tries, almost pleading now, oblivious to the workers' indifference and the mayor's gleeful smile. She is once more about to get exactly what she wants, no matter the costs for others. She obviously thoroughly enjoys achieving yet another victory and doesn't bother to hide it. "I planted that one on the day that Belle was born. On every birthday of my little girl, we..."

He is cut short by the mighty roar of several chainsaws being turned on after another sharp gesture by the mayor. The look of frustration and dread on her father's face is painful to behold, but Belle tries to shut him out and to focus instead on a way to prevent this, to stop the mayor.

It's hardly the first time that the mayor abuses her power like this. The majority of the citizens of the town either distrust or fear her, or both.

Even now, several onlookers keep their distance, their obvious curiosity hindered by the mayor's presence. Everyone knows after all that Mayor Mills can't be stopped by anything or anyone, unless...

Belle's eyes widen in realization. There is one person who doesn't bow to Regina Mills, one who can – and successfully has – stood up to her.

The workers await the mayor's orders, chainsaws roaring, and Belle turns around and breaks into a run. There is no time to explain her plan to her father or to even consider it properly. She might as well exchange one evil for another, but at that moment there is nothing worse to her than the cold twinkle in the mayor's eyes.

~

Belle is panting for breath when she arrives at Mr. Gold's shop. Awfully aware of the shortness of time, she just barges into arguably the town's most infamous location.

She is startled by the loud tingle of the bell on the door as it breaks the heavy silence inside. For a few seconds she can't see anything, the dimly lit interior a stark contrast to the brightness of the sunny spring day outside. At first glance, there is no-one present in the shop besides herself.

"What can I do for you, dearie?"

The quiet, almost hypnotizing words draw her attention to the back of the shop, where she finds Mr. Gold standing behind the counter, all but hidden in shadows. There's a magnifying glass in one of his hands and a doubtlessly priceless piece of antiquity in the other.

"I came to..."

Panic overtakes her as the gaze of the most powerful man in town rests heavily on her. It seemed like a good idea to turn to the mayor's only enemy for advice. But in her lack of interaction with Mr. Gold – her father always keeps her as far away as possible from the landlord of their flower shop and their home above it – she has forgotten that the man who owns the majority of the town is more intimidating than Mayor Mills could ever hope to be, simply by looking at her.

But the biting remark which she expects never comes. Instead, Mr. Gold puts down his work and takes his cane in hand, limping towards her. As he approaches, it occurs to Belle for the first time that from this close, Mr. Gold doesn't look all that daunting. Except for the obvious limp, he is a slight man, only somewhat taller than her own tiny self. His hair reaches his shoulders and is graying at his temples, proving that even he can't keep time from passing.

And yet, there is something about him that gives him an air of power. Perhaps it's in the steadiness of his steely gaze, his ramrod-straight posture, or the deceptive softness of his voice.

"How can I be of service to you, Miss French?"

The question, almost gentle in nature, catches her off guard. He seems polite, almost _pleasant_. Still, the fact that he knows her name despite never having spoken to her or even actually having met her, reminds her exactly who she is seeking to deal with.

And yet, surely there is no harm in merely inquiring...

"Mayor Mills," she says, trying to come across as rational while still being hardly able to breathe, Mr. Gold's presence only worsening the lack of oxygen in her lungs. "She is going to cut down all the trees on our former plot of land, despite having signed a contract that doesn't allow her to do so. I know that we sold the land to her because we needed the money, but it was on the condition that the plot would remain as it was. Those trees are very important to my father. Most of them have been there for decades and were there long before we bought the house. We don't see how the mayor actually needs the plot anyway and..."

She gulps in some much needed air, her panic spreading rapidly while she tries not to babble. She came to Mr. Gold for help or advice at least, but now she finds herself incapable of even explaining the situation calmly to him.

Belle is very much aware how foolish she must seem to him. _Of course_ he isn't going to help her. She's barely more than a girl getting all sentimental over some _trees_ for her father's sake, without a business proposal or an actual plan or any of the things he might be interested in.

All he does is stand there, eerily still, dark brown eyes focused solely on her.

"Is there something... anything... you might be able to do? If not for us, maybe to irk the mayor?"

His lips quirk upwards ever so slightly, but there's no way of telling whether Belle made the right choice by referring to his mysterious feud with the mayor.

"You want a way of saving those trees from Regina's greedy hands?"

"I do, yes," Belle breathes, wondering if she just sold her soul or something along those lines simply by agreeing with this statement.

But there is no speculative gleam in his eyes, nor the look of a predator about to tear its prey apart.

"Is there anything you might be able to..."

She forces herself to ask the question which she has been meaning to ask from the beginning, if only so she can't blame herself for not having done everything she could when her father mourns the loss of his beloved trees. But Belle closes her mouth halfway through the sentence, the unblinking eyes of Mr. Gold unnerving her so much more than Mayor Mills' gloating smile.

"I've found that there's often something that can be done in such cases."

His reply surprises her, if only because she expected a scolding from him, or to be told in no uncertain terms that he wasn't interested in the very least. "But those arrangements always come at a price. Your father is already quite indebted to me. It's not as much as before he paid off a part of the loan with the revenue of the land you sold to the mayor, but the sum he owes me is still considerable."

Belle inwardly sighs upon hearing this. She strongly suspected that her father's financial problems were worse than he pretended them to be, but she hadn't thought it that bad.

"As for you, Miss French... I don't think that there is something of value that you are willing to give me in exchange for my services."

"No, I suppose not," she replies, briefly considering her few possessions. Her golden necklace is one of the few tangible things left of her mother and although the market value of the precious metal might be enough to pay Mr. Gold, she'll never voluntarily part from it.

Then there's her collection of books, a few dozens of paperbacks stashed neatly in her bedroom. They were all but worthless to anyone but her long before she bought them at the second-hand book store.

Similarly, the handful of dollars in her bank account isn't going to get her anywhere either.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Gold," she says, turning around to flee before she actually gets to the point where she wishes that the ground would swallow her.

"You didn't bother me," he says, his voice surprisingly devoid of any sarcasm.

"Still. Thank you very much for your time."

He inclines his head slightly, acknowledging her words. "Don't hesitate to ask for my help again in the future, Miss French. Maybe we can strike a deal then which is agreeable to both parties."

"I'll keep it in mind," she replies, meaning the words despite not being quite sure that there will ever come a moment in her life in which she'll be rich enough for that.

He offers her his hand, surprising her again. Still, she takes it without hesitation. His shake is warm and firm, but not unpleasantly so.

"Despite the circumstances, I hope you'll have a nice day, Miss French."

"Thank you, Mr. Gold. You too."

Although the conversation is all but concluded, Belle lingers right where she is when he lets go of her hand, not looking away from him. It's difficult to believe that this is the very man about whom such awful stories are told – all behind his back, of course. Still, she has no doubt that he has heard all of them, one way or another, and probably knows more than she does herself.

The apparent discrepancy between reality and reputation – myth, almost – has her intrigued. With this new-found awareness of his politeness and well, reasonableness, the darkness and quietness in his shop and the complete lack of customers is a lot stranger than before.

She looks at him then, really looks, beyond the cane and the impeccable suit. She sees the strong line of his cleanly shaved jaw, eyes which are more honey brown than the black of bitter chocolate, the lines around his eyes and mouth pronounced.

It dawns on her that she knows very little of this man, although she has known him from a distance for as long as she can remember.

There are jokes about his huge and remote, _pink_ house where he lives all by himself. There are conflicting rumors of a long-lost son and a wife who ran away many years before that. Everyone agrees that he is all alone now and that the lack of friends and family in his life is what he deserves.

But unlike the rest of the town, Belle French isn't so certain that this man deserves unhappiness.

She startles when she realizes that she must have been staring at him, scrutinizing, for quite some time. Heat rushes to her cheeks in embarrassment, fearing that being forcefully thrown out by her father's landlord is the least of her worries now. There is no doubt in her mind that he's capable of removing her from his premises, limp or not.

Instead, she finds that he hasn't moved but to lower his gaze, looking at her feet when he allows her to study him. He seems so very small then, in a way she never imagined he could be.

"I wish you the best of luck," he says, almost inaudibly.

"Thank you... again," Belle breathes, by now hardly aware of what she is saying while she tries to figure out why he is acting like this, as if something about what she said or did caught him off guard.

"You're welcome, Miss French. It's really quite delightful to receive such a polite and selfless request."

He sounds as if he's genuinely surprised, shocked almost, that she's civilized towards him and doesn't come to make a deal for herself.

Mr. Gold isn't taken aback by anyone. Or at least, that's what she has always believed – what her father and everyone else she knows have always told her. Yet here they are, the most dreaded man in town not meeting the gaze of a young woman who not only tried in vain to make a barely thought through deal with him, but whose father is already indebted to him.

That's when realization dawns on her. Mr. Gold is a man of power who can doubtlessly arrange a great many things with just a snap of his fingers - who can probably get any type of payment he wants. He could have helped her, only to demand things quite different than the sort of trade she proposed.

She shudders as she thoroughly considers for the first time what a man with such power might ask of a desperate young woman such as herself to pay the price for his assistance.

" _Thank you_ ," she whispers, hoping that he'll understand that she isn't only thanking him for his time and patience with her.

Belle is increasingly aware of the complete silence around them, of the darkness that Mr. Gold seems to blend right in with. She wonders how lonely he must be, with no family and no known friends, or even actual customers.

Drinking in the sight of him, she wonders whether there is a single person in town who _knows_ him, who may visit him to talk anything but business. Someone who can make him laugh or relax, to have him let his guard down for a few minutes... someone who _loves_ him.

Just looking at him like this tells her that there is no such person. It seems unfair, cruel almost.

That's why she steps towards him, right into his personal space. She wants to be that person for him, if only for a single moment, if only because there's probably no other way in which she can truly make clear to him how glad she is that he proved her wrong with regards to all the vile rumors surrounding him.

Due to the way Mr. Gold tenses and clings to his cane as if it is a lifeline, she can tell that there are very, very few people who have approached him like this. Not only in the past few years, but ever.

It makes her only more determined to do something to change that, to make him a little less lonely for a minute, to show him that he is not feared and loathed by everyone.

He meets her gaze again and Belle stills for a second when she sees something close to dread. His breath has become labored, his eyes alert, and there's a deep frown on his forehead.

It's as if he expects her to lash out at him at any moment, to _hurt_ him...like that's the only sort of reaction he has learned to expect when someone gets near him.

Still, he doesn't do anything to stop her, in a way almost as if he has surrendered himself to her. The thought is so ridiculous that she disregards it immediately.

"It's all right," she whispers, hoping to soothe him. Calm and gentle as her voice might be, she is raging inside at finding a human being who appears to be so unfamiliar with the most mundane expressions of affection.

Belle raises her hands in what she hopes is a calming gesture, if only to show him that there is nothing she might hurt him with, that she has no ulterior motives.

Mr. Gold relaxes slightly and she takes one final step towards him, her hair brushing the collar of his black shirt. The delicate pattern of his black-and-red tie is right before her eyes, the flawless fabric as beautiful as it is captivating, as neat as the rest of him.

She wishes that she could take a good look at it, to properly appreciate the rich colors and elaborated design, not to mention the way it fits so very snugly around his neck.

But there's something that Belle would much rather do, especially when she is met by the most pleasant of scents. It takes her a moment to realize that it must be _him_ , the smell of wool and wonderfully old books that lingers in his shop mixing with something that she can't quite place.

"You smell nice," she blurts out, so nervous about what she intends to do that she barely realizes that she's making it only worse.

And yet, Mr. Gold looks at her like he can't believe that this is truly happening rather than like she's insane.

Inhaling deeply again, his gaze heavy on her in a way that takes her breath away. Belle would be more than happy to just stand there, to consider all that is happening, to bask in his nearness. But he bows his head, his hair shielding her expression from his face, taking a small step back.

"Miss French?"

His voice is hoarse in a way it definitely wasn't a moment ago. It makes her wonder whether he is uncomfortable with this, or that Mr. Gold is simply as bewildered as she is herself, and not necessarily in a negative way.

Her questions appear to be answered when he remains where he is and doesn't take another step back, awaiting whatever she is going to do next. It's as if he wants the nearness that she intended to provide him with, but doesn't want to ask... either because he doesn't dare or because he doesn't know how to. It makes her only more determined to proceed exactly as she intended.

Taking another step towards him to close most of the distance he created, she waits a few long seconds before moving again. When he indeed doesn't attempt to get away from her, she reaches for his face.

Belle gasps when she brushes careful fingertips against his cheek, savoring the unfamiliar, slightly rough but very lovely texture beneath her fingers. He makes a similar noise, the fact that he doesn't withdraw from her informing her that he doesn't object to her touch at all.

His hair is still between them, almost as if he's hiding behind it, as if he feels that he needs the illusion of protection it offers. Not allowing herself to consider it, only to _feel_ , she gently pushes his hair away from his face. Marveling at the softness of it, the strands like silk between her fingers, their eyes lock after all.

It's as if Mr. Gold only meant to look up briefly, to confirm that this is actually happening. But he doesn't look away, wonder written on his face as her fingers linger on his cheek, experimentally caressing him ever so lightly.

He makes the softest of noises, one that she can't quite identify, but one that has her bringing her face closer to his.

"Have a nice day, Mr. Gold," she whispers, repeating what she said earlier. This time, the words are so much more than a polite, if sincere, greeting.

Just like she had always intended, albeit in a much shorter time span, Belle's lips graze his cheek. Again, she lingers, pressing her lips against him for several precious seconds.

Her eyes closed, Belle is overtaken by his nearness; his upper body pressing ever so lightly against hers, his scent all around her and his breath hot and ragged against her neck.

The deep silence between them is broken by a whimper that could be either hers or his. Mr. Gold turns his head slightly towards her, brushing his nose against her neck and inhaling deeply. This time, it's definitely both of them that make a strange kind of noise.

"Miss French..."

His voice is filled with bewilderment and disbelief, with longing, and it makes an end to whatever courage that possessed her until now, which made her do this with him.

Polite and respectful he has been so far, kind almost, he is still so very powerful and rich, much older than her and very, very male.

Breaking away abruptly and pointedly not noting the feeling of loss that follows it, Belle turns around and rushes out of the shop, away from Mr. Gold, her mind and body alike reeling.

~

The maddening mix of affection and confusion inside of her becomes stronger yet with each hasty step she takes back home. When she returns to the trees that started all this, Belle is met by fidgeting workers and silent tools rather than splintering wood and mercilessly roaring chainsaws, and a tearful father and a gloating mayor.  

The throng of people gathered to watch whatever is happening has only increased however. Belle has to squeeze herself between them to get to the front and see for herself what is going on.

"What has gotten into all of you?" the mayor demands, pointing angrily at none of her minions in particular. "Ever since every one of you got that phone call... who did you talk to and why are you refusing to cut down those trees all of a sudden?!"

"I think we should be going," one of the men says, not looking in the general direction of Mayor Mills as he does so. The other men nod in agreement.

"No way! I'm _telling_ you to cut down those trees, or..."

"Having a bad day, mayor?"

Unlike the others, Belle doesn't need to turn around and take a look at the man approaching them in order to understand what's happening. Still, she is more than happy to turn away from the mayor and watch Mr. Gold instead while he walks towards them from the other side of the road.

He moves with apparent casualness and lack of purpose, but Belle knows better than that.

His entrance is unexpected and well-played to the extent that she is barely reminded of what happened in his shop so recently. Instead, she is focused entirely on whatever is about to happen, her eyes intent on Mr. Gold.

His expression is like it was when she stepped into his shop; neutral and mildly indifferent. But there's something in his eyes when their gazes meet for the briefest of moments, a tension that definitely wasn't there when she met him earlier that day.

"You," the mayor hisses.

It's an utter delight to watch the smile drop off the Mayor's face, as all of her earlier certainty and authority vanished with Mr. Gold's arrival. Then again, that confidence wasn't worth much, when matched with the power of the man who oh-so-easily interrupted her plans. "What are you doing here?!"

"Just taking a stroll," he casually replies, but there's nothing nonchalant about the way he comes to stand still right in front of Regina. "It's a particularly pleasant day, don't you agree?"

"Don't play games with me, Gold. It's no coincidence that you show up mere minutes after those useless idiots here refused to go anywhere near those trees. What did you do? Threaten to double their rent?"

"Oh no, not at all," he replies, studying his perfectly clipped nails with apparent boredom. "I just told them that I would personally evict them if they were to damage a single leaf on any of those trees."

"You twisted little..."

The mayor is already all but foaming, but her rage only increases when Mr. Gold sends her workers scattering back to wherever they came from with a single gesture of his hand. She rushes towards him in response, heels clicking angrily on the pavement.

Before Belle can fear for the slight man as the thoroughly angered woman heads directly towards him, Mr. Gold shifts a little, straightening himself and resting both his hands on his cane in front of him, radiating a power that belies his slender build.

" _Why_?" the mayor hisses, slowing down as a more restrained part of her surfaces. "Why do you care?"

Her speculative gaze focuses on her father and Belle is grateful that the other woman doesn't look her way. She has no idea what's going on between Mr. Gold and the mayor, about the origin and nature of their much-discussed if private feud. There is no doubt in Belle's mind however that it would be for the best if the mayor were not to know about what happened between Mr. Gold and her in his shop.

"No reason in particular," he says, making a show of straightening the cuffs of his sleeves and brushing non-existent dust off his suit jacket. "I'm merely a concerned citizen who is worried about the rate at which the greenery disappears in this town. What do we get instead, I wonder? I personally greatly enjoy some green here and there. I particularly like this little spot over here."

"I don't know what you're playing at," mayor Mills grinds out through clenched teeth, "but I'm not going to let you undermine my rights as the leader of this town. You might be able to scare off my personnel, but I'll gladly remind you that I saved my house from your clutches years ago. There is nothing you can threaten me with."

"Indeed, there isn't," he agrees pleasantly. "And I gladly remind _you_ that the interest of that little deal alone makes me a very happy man each year."

That has the mayor fuming again. Belle doesn't dare imagine what sorts of exorbitant fee the other woman must have paid to secure her house - and how much of that money was actually hers to spend to begin with.

"Either way, you are not going to stop me this time. No matter what you do, you can't prevent me from cutting down those trees. I'll do it myself if I have to."

"By all means," Mr. Gold says without the merest hint of reluctance, gesturing at the abandoned chainsaws. "The mayor doing her own dirty work... now that's something I'd like to see."

That's when the only barely concealed smiles fade from Belle's and her father's face very, very quickly.

Although there was no explicit reason for her to do so, until now Belle was convinced that Mr. Gold was on their side, that he was going against the mayor on her father's behalf at her request after all. But now that the pawnbroker is all but encouraging Regina to continue her abuse of power, Belle isn't certain of Mr. Gold's intentions anymore at all.

"Call it what you like, but cutting down those trees myself is exactly what I'm going to do."

There is audible suspicion in the mayor's voice, but Mr. Gold doesn't say or do anything when she picks up the nearest chainsaw, bringing it to life again with a single mighty pull. Equipment roaring, she directly heads for the tree that her father wanted to protect above all others.

In any other situation, it would be amusing indeed to see the mayor in her usual, highly professional attire, yielding a chainsaw. But right now, there's nothing to laugh about.

"You can't stop me, Gold," she yells over the noise of the saw, "not this time!"

"Of course I can't," he replies, managing to sound audible despite hardly raising his voice. The smile on his face is an unpleasant thing to behold, mocking and so very, very determined. But it's directed at the mayor rather than at Belle and her father, and it's all she needs to have her faith in Mr. Gold restored.

Despite her anxiety, Belle is in complete awe at the way he just stands there, as if there's nothing at stake at all. He might not care about the trees, at least not the way she and her father do, but Mr. Gold is involved now, making this part of his conflict with mayor Mills. For that alone, Belle imagines that he'll do everything in his power to save those trees.

When the rotating blade is mere inches away from the flawless bast of the tree that was planted on the day that Belle was born, Mr. Gold retrieves a cell phone from his pocket. Although her back is towards him, Mayor Mills spots his movement immediately. Despite her apparent re-found confidence, she must have kept an eye on him the whole time.

"What are you doing?!" she screams, right when he speed-dials a number and brings the phone to his ear. "Who are you calling?!"

"No one of interest, dearie. Don't mind me, I'm sure Sheriff Swan will hear me well enough if I yell hard enough over the phone."

"Why the hell are you calling the Sheriff?"

Mayor Mills steps away from the trees, lowering the chainsaw after all.

"That's what concerned citizens do when they witness a crime that is about to be committed, don't they?"

His drawl is so matter-of-fact, filled with such genuinely fake concern, that Belle can't help but giggle out loud. Luckily, the noise is masked by the still roaring chainsaw.

She still doesn't have a clue what Mr. Gold is up to, but she has blind faith in him, particularly when their gazes lock for a brief moment and he nods at her, a small smile on his lips. Whatever he is doing, it's part of his plan.

It's common knowledge that Mr. Gold's plans never fail.

But it's that little twist of his lips that pleases her the most, reminding her of their earlier kiss, of the sensation of having her lips against his cheek and his labored breath against her neck... of hearing him whimper her name with apparent longing, of having him sigh in delight.

It's probably a good thing that he looks back at the mayor a moment later, right before a threatening blush might give her away to Mayor Mills or her own father. Or, maybe just as bad, to _him_... that he might know that she's starting to wonder what it would be like to kiss more than only his cheek.

"What _crime_? Gold, what are you doing?!"

Mr. Gold ignores the mayor, as if she isn't yelling at him in a tone that would have anyone else scurrying to obey her.

"Sheriff? I'm calling to report a case of destruction of private property."

The look on the Mayor's face is priceless. This time, Belle can't keep her laughter back. Luckily, mayor Mills has her attention solely fixed on Mr. Gold.

"If you hurry, you might catch her in the act."

Looking straight at the Mayor, Mr. Gold names the very address where they are all standing.

He thanks the Sheriff and then ends the connection, merely shrugging under the Mayor's thunderous gaze.

"You're bluffing. This property is _mine_ and once the Sheriff is here, I'll report you for..."

"For being harassed by the very woman who just cut down my trees?"

"Your  _what_?!"

Mayor Mills' screech puts the noise of the chainsaw to shame as she throws the tool on the pavement, the still swiftly rotating blades only barely missing her feet.

"Oh, didn't I mention?" he says, casting an exaggerated glance at his watch. "I bought this property fifteen minutes ago."

"Very funny," the mayor says, some color returning to her face. "Do you think I'm that stupid? As if I'd actually believe that you..."

Belle's panic rises again; she too supposed that Mr. Gold was bluffing, but she hoped that Mayor Mills would be too angry to realize that.

"Whatever are you talking about?" he asks, wholly unaffected and all fake surprise.

"You know exactly what. Once the Sheriff arrives you'll pay for this... even you can't talk yourself out of this!"

"Once the Sheriff arrives, I'll show her the contract that states that I am the one who owns this plot – and the trees on it."

He pulls a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket and waves it in the general direction of the Mayor.

In response, she stalks over to him, her heels all but cutting the pavement beneath her feet in half.

Belle highly doubts the authenticity of the paper that Mr. Gold just presented. Even he can't have bought the property from the mayor without her actually knowing so, not to mention the very short amount of time he had to do so.

Still, Mayor Mills' eyes narrow dangerously and she steps away from him, but not before all but jabbing a devilishly red fingernail in his face. Whatever Mr. Gold has done with the document, it appears to be such a good fake that even the mayor can't tell that it's not real.

"Run along now, dearie, and never go anywhere near this plot again."

"This isn't over, Gold! There's no way that this is legal. I'm going to find out what you did and I'm going to reverse it, and then I'm going to make you _watch_ as I personally cut down all of these trees!"

"I do believe I hear the siren of the Sheriff's car," is Mr. Gold's only response.

The mayor casts one more murdering glance at him, then retreats to her car with hurried steps, speeding off.

Belle barely notices; once more, Mr. Gold is the only one she has eyes for. She smiles so broadly that her face hurts, especially when he returns her expression with a tentative smile of his own.

Only when her father turns off the still moving chainsaw and casts a suspicious glance at Mr. Gold, she is reminded that the two of them aren't quite alone.

"I'll suppose we'll soon have to discuss the consequences of whatever this is," her father mutters, "but first, I need a drink."

He heads back to the house, looking back only at the trees that are still proudly standing. When Mr. Gold sends the remaining onlookers on their way with a single gesture, the two of them are all alone after all.

There is a lot to be explained, even without considering the fact that she kissed him. But all he does is bow his head to her in greeting, mutter a barely audible goodbye, and turn around, making his way back in the direction he came from.

"Mr. Gold!"

She doesn't quite know what to say to him, but Belle can't let him leave like this. Right now, she doesn't care all that much how he saved those trees, or even who they actually belong to now. More than anything, she can't just let him walk away without even getting the chance to thank him.

"What is it, Miss French?"

He falters, turning around warily.

"At least let me thank you for what you did, also on behalf on my father."

"There's no need for that, dear. Your... gratitude has already been expressed, most generously I would say, earlier this afternoon."

The ill-concealed wonder and hope in his voice leaves no doubt about his sincerity.

"At least explain how you managed this," she requests quietly.

"It'd be my pleasure," he says, stepping back towards her.

Aware of their location on a currently quiet but still very public road, she gestures at the trees in front of them.

"There is a bench there. We could sit down for a while?"

No matter how much she always enjoys sitting in that reclusive spot beneath the trees on hot summer days, being there with him is yet more appealing than reading her favorite books there.

"That sounds lovely, Miss French."

They walk slowly, mindful of the uneven ground. They eventually settle down on the wooden bench, entirely made out of wooden blocks. The irony doesn't escape her.

"That tree was already dead when we took it down," Belle says, breaking the lengthening silence between them. "My father figured we might as well use the parts that were still good, and keep them right here."

"An elegant solution," Mr. Gold agrees.

"I hope you enjoy it here. Since it's now yours."

She still has no idea what Mr. Gold has done, only that the place they are sitting apparently belongs to him now.

"It is true that I do enjoy being here. The company is... lovely."

He lets the final word briefly linger between them. Belle swallows. She merely referred to the quiet whisper of the wind in the leaves, the coolness of the shadow between the branches – not daring to consider that she was sitting with Mr. Gold at such a quiet, cozy spot.

"This property is indeed mine now," he hastily continues. "But I don't think it'll be for long."

"What do you mean?"

The trees are still very much alive, but she has no idea what might happen with them now that Mr. Gold appears to intend to sell them right after he bought them.

"I plan to give the plot back to whom I consider the rightful owner."

"Who would that be?" Belle asks, still not even certain whether Mr. Gold has truly bought the land, or that the arrangements is just as unlawful as the Mayor claimed it to be.

"You, Miss French."

" _Me?!_ "

"I wouldn't know what to do with this property now that I've kept it out of the mayor's clutches. Besides, it's obvious that you are quite fond of this tiny forest. It would... please me to give it to you."

"I would love to have it back, I truly do," Belle responses, her mind spinning. "But my father won't be able to afford to buy it from you and we already concluded earlier this afternoon that I have nothing of value that I can offer to you in payment."

"I said 'give', not 'sell'," Mr. Gold says, as if it's only normal for anyone, let alone him, to give a piece of land away like it's nothing.

"But..."

Belle has to suppress the urge to pinch herself in front of him, not entirely convinced that this is truly happening.

"It would please you, would it not? To own this plot of land?"

It would be very lovely indeed to keep the plot in its original, green condition, but especially so if its ownership would be in her family again, giving them the certainty that the trees would remain undisturbed.

"It would, yes, but..."

Belle simply can't make sense of the notion that Mr. Gold would want to just give the property away to anyone, let alone to _her_. It's as mystifying as the way he appeared out of nowhere to pry the plot out of the mayor's hands, going as far as to involve...

"The Sheriff!" Belle cries out, recalling that Sheriff Swan can arrive at any moment. "We have to inform her that the situation is resolved and that everything is fine now."

"All I have to do is delete a single voice mail message when I get home," he replies, smiling gently at her.

"So you didn't actually call..." Belle throws her head back and laughs out loud, realizing what he has done – or rather, what he _hasn't_ done. It only increases her already quickly accumulating admiration for Mr. Gold. "You _brilliant_ man..."

"We wouldn't want the Sheriff to show up here for nothing, would we?"

There's an undeniable tinge of redness on his cheeks. It doesn't prevent Belle from throwing her arms around him, hugging the no longer quite so intimidating Mr. Gold tightly.

He tenses, clearly not used to such expression of affection either. Before Belle can pull back and try to explain herself for yet another impulsive action, he relaxes somewhat and returns her embrace, resting his hands awkwardly on her waist.

The way she clings to him from where she is sitting next to him isn't all that comfortable. But rarely she has felt more pleasant than she does while being so close to Mr. Gold, her head resting on his shoulder and her face pressed lightly against his neck, breathing in the enthralling scent of him once more.

"Why did you help me?" she murmurs, asking the question that has been bothering her since the moment he arrived, yet more than how he managed to stop the Mayor. "You said that..."

"I said that there was nothing you wanted to give me that would be of value to me. At that time, it was true."

She moves away from him reluctantly, needing all of her focus to attempt to make sense of what he is saying.

"I don't understand. There hasn't been a change. I don't have anything more to give you than when we spoke about it in your shop."

"Some things can be of great value if freely given," he says quietly, lowering his eyes. "They might even be priceless."

Her eyes widen in realization of what he's talking about, when it dawns on her that he's referring to her kiss as the price for his help.

"It wasn't like that!" she cries out, horrified. "I didn't do that just so you might help me after all!"

"You didn't?"

There's no judgment in his tone, no anger or doubt, only curiosity and wonder.

"I didn't."

"It's... it's true that I enjoy riling up our dear mayor," he says after a few long seconds of silence. "But not too often, and not too much. There has to be a reason. You gave me a very good one."

His hand is resting on the wooden bench, right between them. Belle covers it with her own hand. More than wanting him to know how much she appreciates what he has done for her, she wants to convince him that nothing she did beforehand was to persuade him to help her after all.

"Why did you kiss me?" he breathes, staring at their joined hands while asking the question that must have haunted him since the act took place.

"I kissed you because I was grateful that you heard me out and that you didn't take advantage of my far from straight thinking."

Now that they are sitting together with their hands entwined, it isn't difficult at all to discuss this, even with the strange kind of warmth that's spreading throughout her as they do so.

"You were lonely and I didn't want you to be."

Belle is very conscious of her movements when she reaches for his face again, finding his cheek with her fingertips once more.

Having much more courage and determination this time, she caresses him without reluctance, her fingers going through his hair every once in a while. Mr. Gold leans in to her touch in response, rubbing his face against the palm of her hand.

Back in his shop, she blamed her urge to do this on the highly unusual circumstances. Now, there's no denying that she _wants_ to touch Mr. Gold, that there's something oddly alluring about being like this with him. His kindness and his shockingly gentle manner, those warm brown eyes and his captivating voice... it has awakened something within her.

"I kissed you because I love the way you smell," she continues, breathing in deeply to underscore her point.

Her fingers are venturing towards his lips now, tentative but ever so determined. Mr. Gold closes his eyes, his labored breathing encouraging her progress. Despite the ever increasing heat within her, a shudder goes through her at the feeling of it, at the nearness of him.

"Because your hair feels so nice."

His breathing becomes yet more rapid and rough, especially when she brings her face closer to his once more and tangles her hand in his hair for good measure.

"Because you seem to enjoy it when I touch you... and because of the sounds you make when I do."

Closing her own eyes, Belle presses her lips against his cheek.

Unlike the last time, she doesn't feel compelled at all to withdraw after a moment. Instead, she presses her lips more firmly against him, allowing herself to _feel_ for the first time.

When she moves back at last, she does so only slightly, letting her next words brush against the skin she just kissed.

"Because you keep calling me 'Miss French'..."

She moves in to kiss him again, bravely aiming for his jaw this time, but he slightly withdraws from her. His eyes are open then, wide and disbelieving and _longing_.

"I won't pretend to understand what is going on. I don't see how you can possibly want this with me. But since you came to my shop this afternoon... Your kindness and your loveliness..."

If she weren't burning already, the heat in his gaze certainly would have set her aflame.

"Miss French, I... I am intrigued by you. More than that, I fear that I am... enchanted."

"So am I," she breathes, gasping when Mr. Gold turns his head slightly, the space between their lips reduced to mere inches.

He reaches for her as well, caressing her face just like she is touching his.

"There is so much more to you then I thought there was," she whispers, only more confident now that Mr. Gold has expressed his interest in her.

His fingers are slightly calloused, shaky and so very reverent as they brush her skin.

"It feels amazing when you touch me..."

He growls at that, his breath hot and moist between them, and so very, very close to her. Belle opens her eyes briefly, finding that their faces are indeed almost touching, his eyes tightly shut.

"And I'd really, _really_ like to kiss you now... and not on the cheek this time."

" _Please_ ," he groans, making it very easy for her indeed to close the last distance between them.

Their mouths meet a second later, more a merely-there brush of lips than an actual kiss. It's wonderful regardless. Belle always suspected that the much-described butterflies in the stomach were a poetic exaggeration, but there's definitely something fluttering in her belly when she kisses Mr. Gold.

Her breath hitches when she realizes that she's never experienced anything remotely like this before, that _Mr. Gold_ is the one making her feel like the love-struck characters in her books.

The discovery that she could have found her Prince Charming makes light-headed. Her so far unoccupied hands flailing, she reaches for something to support her. Naturally, she finds him to anchor her. One of her hands finds the back of his neck, keeping him close to her, and the other one ends up sliding down his side, settling down barely above his hip.

Mr. Gold whimpers against her lips in response, the chaste kiss seemingly influencing him just as much as her. Further encouraged by his reaction, Belle increases the pressure a little, pushing her lips more firmly against his.

Belle doesn't quite dare to do anything more than this, nor does she really know how to. But this is very much enjoyable in its own right that it doesn't matter in the slightest.

She wants this warm and breathless happiness to go on forever, but she can't quite breathe properly and is thus forced to break away from him eventually.

Not wanting to let go of him any more than she has to, she remains as near to him as she can be. Daring to cast a glance on him, she finds Mr. Gold with flushed cheeks, still closed eyes and the most beautiful smile she has ever seen.

Convinced that he wants to keep as close as she does, she rests her forehead against his. Keeping her hands right where they are, she commits the feeling of his body as well to her memory as she can. The rustle of the wind in the trees around them and the song of a few birds is the only sounds that can be heard over their still from calm breathing.

It's a pleasantly long time until Belle recalls that there's something else she wants to know about.

Although she would like to remain sitting like that for a very long time – she has the idea that Mr. Gold actually intends to do just that – she slightly pulls back from him to ask the question that starts to bother her once more.

"How did you manage to stop the mayor and buy the land as quickly as you did?"

He blinks a few times, as if bringing back memories from long ago. Belle feels strangely proud that she caused this.

"It _was_ quite a challenge, given the time restraints," he eventually says, smiling sheepishly. It's almost difficult to believe that this is the same man who outsmarted Mayor Mills only a moment ago. It's yet another reason she is growing to like him so very, very much. "The first moment after you left... well, I must admit that I was rather distracted."

Belle marvels at the warmth in his eyes, the way he looks at her as if she's a princess from a fairy tale.

"But I realized I had to act quickly if I wanted to help you. I didn't know exactly what the mayor had planned and who she had hired, but I could make an educated guess. I made some inquiries to be certain. After that, it was child's play to call the men working for her and threaten to evict them if they were to make only a single scratch on any of those trees."

He looks away from her, his face turning grim. It reminds her once more of the opposites Mr. Gold seems to be made of; of the great gentleness and mercilessness he appears to be equally capable of.

"That was mostly to delay the mayor's plans. I was long aware that her paperwork is often far from neat – or legal. She uses a variety of letter box companies and funds to conceal that public and private properties can be quite mixed in this town. I never had good reason to make use of that... until now."

His expression relaxes when he looks back at her.

"Your plot was legally speaking not in possession of the town, but not in the private property of Mayor Mills either. It was part of the portfolio of a not officially existing investment firm. A single trip to a real estate agent on my way here allowed me to buy it without the mayor's permission... or even her knowledge."

Mr. Gold looks rather pleased with himself, but in a way that's not necessarily limited to the fact that he just won another battle in his continued cold war with Regina Mills.

"I may have taken advantage of one or two loopholes to conclude the deal, but it is legal. I assure you that there's nothing that can undo the validity of this new contract. I'll make certain that everything is perfectly in order when I transfer the plot to your possession."

There's an enthusiasm about him, a passion almost, as he describes the work he did for her. It's as if yet another layer of Mr. Gold is revealed to her.

"Please forgive me, my dear," he says, that slightly sheepish look returning, as if he doesn't know how to react to an interested audience. "I'm probably the only one who can find... amusement in legal documents. I do not mean to bore you."

"You're not," she replies truthfully. "Not at all."

He raises a skeptic eyebrow.

"You do not have to... pretend, Miss French."

"I'm not. I find this very interesting."

As an avid reader, she thoroughly enjoys and appreciates the written word, especially the subtle nuances it may contain. She never considered the importance of it outside her novels, but Mr. Gold has peaked her interested in more than one way. His professions, the contracts and regulations he has such a way with, are yet another fascinating part of him.

"You do?"

His embarrassment, his uneasiness about talking so passionately about his fondness of the written word, is quickly replaced by an undeniable enthusiasm for her interest.

"I'd love to learn more about what you do," she replies, smiling when his expression brightens yet more.

"Tell you what," he says, the way he tightens his grasp on her hand ever so slightly as shy as his tone. "Why don't you visit me one evening, so I can tell you about it over a cup of tea?"

Belle is almost giggling at the absurdity of Mr. Gold basically asking her on a _date_... to talk about _contracts_ while drinking _tea_ in his own house.

But whether it's bizarre or not, there's no-one she'd rather go out with, and nothing she'd rather do.

"That would be very lovely, Mr. Gold. I'm free tonight. Would that work for you?"

There's no fear of coming across as too eager, not while he is as hopeful as her.

"Tonight would suit me as well. I could pick you up here at eight, if you'd like?"

"I'd like that, yes," she replies, beaming at him.

"Perfect," he says, his smile broader than she has ever seen it before.

"In the mean time," she suggests, not wanting to be separated from him just yet, no matter how temporarily, "would you like me to tell you something about the trees you bought for me?"

"I'd appreciate that very much, Miss French."

She's got the idea that Mr. Gold is much more interested in spending more time with her than in learning more about the plot of land he acquired. It doesn't deter her in the slightest, especially not when he wraps a tentative arm around her shoulders. When she nods in encouragement, he carefully pulls her towards him, until she has found a perfect spot for her head on his shoulder.

Belle begins her narration with her own tree, the one that her father planted on the day that she was born. With their relationship blossoming like the trees around them in that reclusive spot, it's a very lovely day indeed.


End file.
